


Tiny Glass Eyes

by UnmovingGreatLibrary



Category: Touhou Project
Genre: Dolls, F/F, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-02-18 06:51:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2339123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnmovingGreatLibrary/pseuds/UnmovingGreatLibrary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Alice's soul gets trapped in her dolls during a failed experiment, Marisa resolves to do everything she can to return things to normal.</p><p>... the only problem is, Alice might be happier like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was late in the afternoon when something started thudding against the roof of Marisa's cottage.

The first few taps against the weathered roof echoed through the house, and she looked up from her book to frown at the ceiling. Birds or something, maybe.

And then the full force hit. Dozens of tiny impacts landed on the roof every second, sending a clamor through the cottage and making its frame shake. Marisa looked up, startled, as a little plaster rained from the ceiling. It sounded like the world's worst hailstorm, but out the window, the sky continued to be clear.

The clamor tapered off, but there was no way Marisa was going to let it pass unexplained. After grabbing the mini-hakkero from its peg by her bed, she stalked to the door and cautiously pushed it open.

She was prepared for a strange youkai ambush, or an unwelcome visitor, or fairies trying to pull a clumsy prank. What she was not prepared for was finding herself face to face with an army of dolls. Dolls dressed in every color of the rainbow, dozens of them, standing in a broad semicircle around the entrance to the cottage. She glanced up, and dozens more lined the roof to her house, with even more doubtlessly standing on the roof behind them. A few dolls in the front ranks had weapons raised and at the ready, but none of them seemed to be moving to attack.

“Uh. Afternoon.”

Hundreds of glass eyes stared back at her blankly, but the dolls' ranks parted to allow a small team to walk forward. Four dolls carried a notebook between them, another with a pot of ink, and a sixth carrying a quill over its head. Marisa watched curiously as the group with the book propped it open and turned it to a blank page. The one with the quill dipped it in the ink, then carefully wrote, “Hello, Marisa. It's Alice. Could you come to my cottage? I could use some help.”

“Huh.” Marisa looked over the dolls with a frown, then studied the treeline. Sure enough, Alice wasn't around. She'd seen Alice control her dolls from afar before, but this seemed a bit excessive. Still, weirder things had happened. Marisa shrugged and hung the mini-hakkero on her belt. “She could've just came herself if she wanted to talk to me, jeez. Sure, tell Alice I'll be there in a few.”

* * *

The flight to Alice's cottage was a familiar one, although doing it with an honor guard of a hundred dolls on each side was a new experience. They landed outside and guided her to the cottage door. Marisa glanced back to them uncertainly. “Do I knock, or...?” She was cut off as the door swung open from inside, pushed by a small team of dolls. “... okay. Yo, Alice! You wanted to see me?”

Inside, it was immediately obvious that things were even weirder than she'd suspected. Alice was nowhere to be seen—or heard—and with most of the dolls still standing outside, the place looked strangely empty. The walls had always been lined with doll-covered shelves, and seeing those same shelves barren made the place look abandoned. The only sounds were her own footsteps, the ticking of the clocks, and the patter of dozens of tiny feet on the floor behind her. Even so, the cottage was well-lit, smelled like recently-cooked food, and otherwise looked like Alice had only stepped out for a moment. “Hey, Alice! Are you in here, or...?”

As she rounded the corner, Marisa found herself face-to-face with Alice. She was sitting primly on the sofa, with her hands folded in her lap... and her eyes staring straight ahead. She didn't react to Marisa's presence at all. Marisa crossed her arms and waited. “Hello?” Silence filled the cottage, as the last of the dolls filed in to the room.

“... you'd better not be dead. If you're dead, I'm gonna be pissed!” Marisa hurried across the room and waved a hand in front of Alice. No response. She grabbed Alice's shoulder and shook it, and the motion was all it took to disrupt the magician's balance. Alice slumped to her side like dead weight, and as Marisa stared in shock, a dozen dolls scrambled up onto the couch to haul her back into position.

“W-what the heck happened to her?!” Marisa turned to address the crowd of dolls behind her, and belatedly noticed that the crew with the quill and paper had been busy writing.

The topmost paper now read, “Let me explain. Please, have a seat.”

She ignored the instructions, and instead pressed her fingers to Alice's neck. Well. She was still warm and had a pulse, at least. Somehow, Marisa didn't find that particularly comforting. Staring straight ahead, breathing so slowly that it wasn't even noticeable, and unmoving, Alice looked like that freaking jiang-shi. That thought was enough to make Marisa take a hurried step away, and she slumped into a seat. Even then, she could feel Alice's dead eyes on her from across the room.

Atop the desk, the writing team was working busily, and had soon prepared the next paper. “I'm sorry for the surprise. I thought it would help you understand the gravity of the situation better.”

“I... guess so?” Marisa watched Alice from the corner of her eye, half-expecting to catch her in the act of giving commands to to the dolls. “What's going on?”

“I'm here. I am the dolls.”

“... eh?”

The wait as the dolls wrote the response to that was excruciating. Half a minute of listening to the clocks tick out every second and the soft scratch of the quill on paper. “I am the dolls,” it still said, when they turned it around again. “I accidentally transferred my soul into them during some experiments this afternoon. I'm not sure what happened. I need your help.”

“You _accidentally_ put your soul into some dolls.”

“Yes.”

Marisa looked down at the floor, covered in a crowd of dozens of dolls. They _were_ watching her a bit more attentively than they normally would be, but it felt really weird to consider that Alice was in there. Thoughtfully, she reached down and poked one of them in the tummy, sending it wobbling. “... so can you feel it when I do this?”

“Yes.”

“Can you feel it when...” Marisa started reaching for another doll, only to be interrupted as yet a different doll flew up and lightly smacked the back of her head. “Ow.”

“Please try to focus.”

“Right, yeah.” Marisa rubbed the back of her head sorely.

“Yes, I did it by accident. The experiment was supposed to open a conduit into a doll that I could later use to try creating a soul in it. Instead, it pulled in my own.”

“Huh. That sucks.”

The writing crew turned toward the stack of now-discarded papers, then dug for a moment before holding up the one reading, “Yes.”

Marisa shifted in her seat and looked to Alice's body again. She felt uncomfortable even being in the same room with that, and being watched by what felt like two hundred dolls wasn't helping her relax, either. Nor was the genuine concern that was starting to nibble at the back of her brain, but she wasn't about to admit to _that_. “Well,” she said, with as much blustering confidence as she could manage under the circumstances, “for a badass expert magician like me, fixin' something like this shouldn't be a problem. If you need my help, I mean.”

“That was what I was going to suggest, yes. I don't know what caused this, and I don't know how to fix it. I can't perform most spells like this, so there's only so much I can do about it—” The text reached the edge of the page, and the dolls flipped to the next before continuing. “—right now. Your shop's motto is 'We Do Everything,' right?”

“Yeah, it is...”

“Then fix this. I'll pay you.”

“Since you're a friend, I'll only charge you double my normal amount,” Marisa said, with a firm nod. “... I dunno know much about all of this... dolls and souls stuff, though.”

“For some of it, I'll just need you to follow my instructions. For the more complicated parts, I can teach you what you need to know. Think of it as free magic lessons.”

Even before the quill finished scratching out the last sentence, Marisa could hear Alice's characteristic sigh in her head. For a moment, her excitement crowded out the low swell of anxiety in her chest. “Free magic lessons and some cash? Let's do this!”

* * *

It didn't take long for the prosaic realities of magical research to settle in around Marisa. Or, well, magical research as practiced by Alice. Her own research was driven by time-honored scientific principles such as 'what happens when I mix these things?' and 'I think I read about this in a book once.' Alice's was much more... methodical. Soon enough, she was standing in the workshop, while the dolls relayed an incomprehensible series of instructions to her on slips of paper: “Please read page 182 of this book and perform the spell there on my body.” “Please draw this diagram on the floor, and wait for me to move a doll into the center.” “Please record the value that we just measured and look it up in table 112A.”

The next thing Marisa knew, there was a tiny finger poking at her face. She grumbled and shifted in her seat, and reality slowly asserted itself on her sleep-fogged mind. Her face was pressed to flat wood, her back was sore from hunching over, and her clothes had that itchy slept-in feeling. With another grumble, she sat up and blinked blearily at the world around her.

There were a handful of dolls standing on the desk, in the middle of the piled results of hours and hours of magical research. “Sorry to wake you up,” one of them wrote. “You fell asleep here last night, and I decided to leave you be.”

“Mmh? Yeah. Guess I did...” Marisa straightened up and pushed her hat back on her slightly matted hair, then wiped a strand of drool from the corner of her mouth. She couldn't really remember the last bits of research she'd done before drifting off, but that was only natural. She _could_ remember resolving to fix Alice before she allowed herself to rest, but it looked like she hadn't quite pulled that off.

“Would you like breakfast?” Not waiting for an answer, another crew of dolls hauled a pot of tea, a dish of sugar cubes, and a single cup into the room, then sat the cup down and started filling it.

“Yeah, sure. What about you, though? Are you... doin' okay?”

“You're the one I'm worried about. You worked until you dropped last night, and unless you ate right before I arrived yesterday, you've skipped about two meals.”

“I've done worse.” Marisa grabbed the tea, took a slurp from it, then thoughtfully grabbed a handful of sugar cubes from the tray and dropped them in. She eyed the four dolls dealing with the teapot as she drank. “So they're _all_ you, huh? Must be pretty weird.”

“It is, yes.”

“What's it feel like?”

The dolls standing around her hesitated briefly before the quill started scratching out a response. “Strange. It's hard to focus on one doll at a time, and even harder if I split them up.”

“And bein' so tiny.” Marisa reached over and poked another doll in the side of the head, sending it wobbling.

“Yes, I suppose it is.”

Marisa eyed the terse sentence, but no matter how she tried, she couldn't read Alice's emotional state out of it. She swished her cup a few times, looking into its depths. The tea was still struggling to absorb all the sugar she'd dumped in, leaving a grainy sludge on the bottom. Probably put in four or five cubes too many. Oh well.

She realized that the dolls had started writing again, after a delay. The notepad now read, “I'm scared, Marisa.” Every doll in sight was suddenly looking away, unable to meet her gaze.

“Oh. Uh.” Marisa looked through the doorway at the unmoving body on the couch. It was unsettling enough seeing Alice sitting there, barely breathing, like this. She could barely imagine what it would be like if it were her own body.

With most of the dolls back on their shelves, and the others silently watching her, Marisa was once again acutely aware of the sound of the clocks and her own beating heart. She idly leafed through a few of the papers with her free hand, just to make a little noise. “Well, now that I'm on the job, we'll get ya fixed up in no time. … um, did that stuff last night mean anything to you?”

“Not much, I'm afraid. I can't find how my soul ended up in the dolls. That spell shouldn't have been able to cause it. I was also able to tell that it's distributed am—” The writing dolls paused and flipped to the next page. “—among all of my dolls, as I thought, which will make it harder to transfer back to my body.”

Marisa reached down to pat the closest doll on the head with a fingertip. “Don't worry, we'll figure it out.”

“Of course we will. Today, though, I want you to go home and get some actual rest.” Once Alice finished writing, another group of dolls flew in, carrying some kind of delicate pastry Marisa had no hope of naming.

“I can keep going, y'know.”

“Thank you. But if this is going to take more than a few hours of research, I'd rather not let you burn yourself out too quickly.” Something ruffled Marisa's hair, and she belatedly realized that a doll was patting her on the head in return. “Eat up and go get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow.”


	2. Chapter 2

It had taken most of Marisa's flimsy self-restraint to keep herself at home for the rest of the day, but she'd somehow managed. When she returned the next morning, the sun had barely been up for an hour. Already, there were a dozen dolls working outside, trimming at the hedges and cleaning the windows. By the standards of the Forest of Magic, it looked like a pretty normal day, and for a moment, Marisa found herself wondering if yesterday had just been some cruel prank.

And then all of the dolls stopped mid-work and turned to look at her. _That_ was only a little unsettling. One waved.

Right, then. They didn't normally do that. “Ah, um, mornin'! I'll just let myself in, okay?”

Inside, the cottage was just as busy as its exterior. A small army of dolls seemed to be washing the windows from the inside, and several more were flitting around the place, dusting the shelves. Small groups of them here and there stopped their work abruptly as Marisa approached, ensuring that there were always a few pairs of eyes following her wherever she went.

“Uh, hey. How's it going...? Hey. Hi, good mornin',” Marisa said to the groups as she passed. She peeked into the living room, where Alice's body was still frozen in time on the couch, and...

“You don't need to tell me good morning a dozen times, you know,” popped up in front of her face, carried by an airborne doll.

“Yeah, I guess. Sorry. Reflex or somethin'. Still. You, uh, look pretty busy.”

The doll landed on the coffee table, where the quill-bearing doll and helpers were already waiting, and the group scratched out, “I'm trying to get used to controlling several groups at once. It's hard to concentrate like that...”

As Alice wrote, Marisa noticed the cleaning dolls slow to a stop to hang uselessly in the air, then resume once her attention turned back to them. “Makes sense. Still, uh. Being watched by half a dozen gangs of dolls is kinda creepy, y'know?”

“They're all me right now, so you can get used to it,” the doll with the quill wrote, and another gave her a warning glance before turning the page. “I also haven't been able to sleep since this started, and I couldn't focus enough to read or study, so I,” another page, “didn't have anything to do last night but experiment with it.”

“Huh. Well, if you're tired, I could come back...”

“I haven't noticed anything. Dolls shouldn't need to sleep.”

“Neither should youkai, but you all sure do seem to like it.” A few dolls turned to glare at Marisa, and she raised her hands defensively. “Hey, hey, I'm just sayin'! Sleep is pretty great, if you ask me. So, what're we doin' today?”

* * *

The answer, not surprisingly, was more experiments. Marisa worked until Alice forced her to go home. And again the next day. By the fifth day, Marisa was exhausted and losing her focus. She couldn't always tell what the experiments were testing, but from what little she did understand, it seemed like they were no closer to fixing this. She'd been keeping an eye on Alice, and while she seemed to be doing well enough, Marisa was becoming disheartened.

So, she was relieved when a paper-bearing doll flew in. Any distraction was good, and after a day spent reading cantrips from old books, with little interaction with Alice apart from a doll looking over the results, she really needed a distraction. The fact that the card said, “I've cooked lunch, if you're hungry,” was just an added bonus.

Marisa stretched and yawned as she stepped out of the workshop. Alice had obviously been busy while she was secluded. The entire cottage smelled like the recently-cooked meal, and a team of dolls was mass-producing miniature furniture in the middle of the living room. Apart from the soulless body sitting on the couch, it was a normal busy day around the cottage.

A team of dolls flew past, carrying a food-bearing tray between them and heading for the living room. Confused, Marisa turned to follow them, before yet another doll flew up to grab her shoulder and tug her along to the dining room. A place was already set for her: a bowl of soup, a sandwich, a small plate of checkerboard shortbread cookies, and a cup of tea. Alice's writing team was already in position on the table. Marisa looked over her shoulder toward the living room as she settled into her seat, and asked, “What's with the other plate?”

“It's for my body.”

“Huh. How do you make it eat? Do ya—actually, y'know what, nevermind.” The less she thought about that, the better. “Seems like you're gettin' the hang of this, though.”

“It's not so hard, once you get used to it. I—“ The doll stopped writing, and watched as Marisa dunked a cookie in her tea. “That's disgusting.”

“Nah, it's pretty good. You should try it!” Marisa tossed the cookie into her mouth, washed it down with a slurp of tea, and took a bite of the sandwich. She hadn't realized how hungry she'd been, but she was used to working through meals and only pausing to cook when she got bored or something blew up. She was also accustomed to less elaborate meals, made out of whatever she could throw into a pot and make edible within ten minutes. Still, if somebody else was making the cookies, she wasn't about to complain. “You don't need to keep cooking for me, though. I can take care of myself.”

“It's the least I can do when you're working on fixing this all day. I also,” the writing doll hesitated now, and the others glanced away uncomfortably. “I have another favor to ask you.”

“Hmm?” Marisa said, with her mouth full of sandwich. “What's that?”

"I need to visit the Scarlet Devil Mansion," Alice wrote. "We're reaching the ends of what I can do with my own research."

"That bad, huh?"

"I still can't explain what would cause my soul to transfer into the dolls, let alone how to fix it. This kind of thing isn't..." The dolls paused to turn the page, "my specialty. I'll need to reference some things from the library."

"Hehe, sounds fun."

"You, of course, will be on your best behavior, since you're coming on my behalf."

"... aw."

Throughout the cottage, Marisa could hear dozens of dolls stirring to life from their spots on the shelves. "I'll try to be ready by the time you finish eating. If we leave soon, we can be home by sundown."

* * *

'Home by sundown' was an unfamiliar goal for Marisa, when the Scarlet Devil Mansion was concerned. She was used to visiting by the cover of night, when it was easier to sneak past Meiling, Sakuya was likely to be attending to her mistresses rather than patrolling the hallways, and Patchouli would be asleep on the rare occasions that she maintained a regular schedule. Walking up to the mansion in the full light of day was weird. Meiling could see her coming from kilometers away, and the rainbow-colored army of dolls marching behind her didn't really help matters.

On the other hand, the sheer novelty of the situation was on her side, since it wasn't like anybody could accuse her of trying to sneak in. A little fast-talking, plus some persuasive notes from Alice, were enough to get the pair—one human, one 157-doll hivemind—past the gate and into the mansion, where Sakuya was unsurprisingly waiting to escort them to the library.

Without even looking up, Patchouli greeted the group with, "Why did you let the thief in here?"

"I'm sorry, Lady Patchouli. This would appear to be—"

"Official Kirisame Magic Shop business!" Marisa announced as she stepped into the room. The dolls were already hovering past on either side of her, like water flowing around an obstacle, and the group with the notepad was near the front. "Uh, and Alice needs some help."

Patchouli's expression remained suspicious, but she seemed hard-pressed to provide an alternate explanation for the swarm of dolls that was settling onto the tables around her. "Hello, Patchouli," was already written on the notepad when a crew of dolls propped it open, and they turned the page to reveal, "Could you please point me to some resources on soul-binding? I have some ideas I'd like to run by you once I validate them. It's a bit hard to converse like this, so I'll let Marisa explain."

Patchouli looked to Marisa expectantly, and Marisa gave an anxious laugh. "Eh-heh. Uh." Explaining magical phenomena in terms precisely enough to satisfy Patchouli was hard under the best circumstances, and in this case, she didn't exactly understand what had happened. "Alice was preparin' a doll to try giving it a soul, and it sucked in _her_ soul instead. And now she's a jillion dolls."

"... I see."

"She's kinda cute like this, don't you think?"

"I wouldn't know." A passing doll kicked Marisa lightly in the shin in retaliation, and with a thoughtful frown, Patchouli revised her opinion. "... perhaps a little."

* * *

It was the most boring discussion that Marisa had ever seen. At some point, Patchouli had ruled that it was better for both sides of the conversation to be written, and dug out a typewriter. With half a dozen dolls gathered around the thing, she and Alice were having a rapid back-and-forth conversation, punctuated by the sharp clack of the keys. That noise was practically the only thing keeping Marisa from falling asleep. With Alice's distributed consciousness able to search through half the library at once, and Patchouli knowing its contents by heart, the two were researching at a rate that she had no hopes of contributing to. She lifted one of the discarded typeset pages and looked over it idly.

"If that's right, there should still be a link between my soul and my body."  
"That is only a hypothesis, and it would appear that you've detected no such link."  
"What could cause such a clean transfer, though?"  
"Several things. If we exclude the possibility that somebody did this on purpose, several types of astral projection can result in..."

It would normally fascinate Marisa, but she'd seen entirely too much of this conjecture to be interested. She sighed and let the page drift back down into the heap of discarded correspondence in front of her. Only then did she notice that the conversation seemed to be reaching a fever pitch. Patchouli was still typing, while the dolls hovered impatiently to leap in as soon as she let up. Marisa raised an eyebrow. "Something up?"

"Yes, I believe we've reached a conclusion," Patchouli said. She seemed far more tired than when the pair had arrived.

The dolls continued typing frantically. Marisa took a peek, and caught 'cannot be the only explanation' in the wall of text on the page. "Y-yeah?"

"Alice, I think that a review would benefit you, as well," Patchouli said toward the still-typing dolls. Grudgingly, they backed away from the typewriter. "Now, you will agree that your own experiments ruled out hostile magic as a cause?"

The dolls nodded.

"And that we have established that there is no link between your soul and your body, such as we would expect if you were astral projecting?"

Another nod, slower this time.

"And that the spells you were using when this happened don't contain the appropriate components to directly cause this?"

The dolls nodded again. Their eyes were turned sullenly down toward the table now.

Marisa hated to admit it, but her interest was piqued. "Yeah? So what _was_ it?"

"I believe that she chose this herself."

"... eh?"

"This sort of phenomenon isn't uncommon among young youkai magicians," Patchouli explained. "To alter one's body, making it as immortal as the soul... it requires the mindset that the body is an extension of the will, to be altered to suit one's desires. It requires the mindset that the body is not the _self_ , but merely a tool."

"Is that why you only take a bath like once a—"

"I would appreciate it if you _tried_ to stay quiet until I finish."

"Sorry..."

Patchouli fixed Marisa with a scowl for several seconds, until she was certain that the younger magician had her impulses under control. "As I was saying. This sense of dissociation often erodes the bonds between body and soul. Under such circumstances, it isn't uncommon for a youkai magician's soul to transfer to a vessel that feels more suitable. Particularly when an unrelated spell makes it easier, such as in Alice's case. Polemion the Greek is known to have spent the last seven centuries of his life as a book, and I myself have known several magicians in the forms of statues or magical automa—"

This time, it was Alice who interrupted. The clack of the typewriter keys was loud enough to make Patchouli stop until the message was finished. “You are saying that I prefer this over being a human.”

"Perhaps you didn't plan it, but on some emotional level, you did desire it. If it helps, you can think of it as the next stage in your evolution as a magician."

"I didn't want this!"

"Not at all? No part of you thought that this would be preferable to a weak human frame, confined to a single point in space? No part of you felt constrained by your desires to sleep and eat?"

The dolls glared at Patchouli again, but even from across the table, Marisa could see that there wasn't much force to it. Several silent seconds passed with Alice's many bodies in unmoving hesitation. And then, the one closest to the pad of paper lifted the quill to unsteadily write, "I need some time to think." In unison, the army of dolls turned and started milling toward the door.

"Hey, um, hold up, you left the paper and stuff...!" Marisa gathered up Alice's things and rose to standing, and in response, the dolls took to the air and took off flying, hurrying to leave her behind.

* * *

By the time Marisa reached Alice's cottage, the dolls had retreated inside and the curtains were drawn. A few minutes of knocking on the door failed to rouse any response, and this didn't seem like the best occasion for breaking and entering. After leaving the notepad, quill, and ink on the front step, Marisa headed home.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, Marisa flew by Alice's cottage and found that the notepad was still sitting outside. She resisted the urge to knock on the door. After halfheartedly trying to focus on her own experiments for a while, she stopped by the shrine and bothered Reimu until the sun went down, then headed home and dropped into fitful sleep.

The day after, it was nearly noon by the time she rolled out of bed. After deliberating for half an hour, she resolved to try knocking today... but the thought of dealing with the emotional fallout of the conversation in the library kept unnerving her. Before she knew it, it was mid-evening and she hadn't even left the house.

And then there was a knock on Marisa's door.

Nobody from the human village ever came out this far. Reimu rarely visited. The only person who ever knocked, in fact, was...

_Alice_.

"C-coming!" Without meaning to, Marisa found herself sprinting across her house. She jumped over a drifting pile of books, just barely sidestepped the tsuchinoko terrarium, opened the door as calmly as she could, and found herself face to face with... Patchouli.

Patchouli looked upset, which only served to underline the strangeness of the situation. Marisa had only rarely even seen her outside of the library. Getting a house call from her was... was _unprecedented_. "Uh! Hey, Patchy."

"Marisa." Patchouli was doing her best to sound serious, but the wheezing, reedy tone to her voice suggested that she was recovering from a bout of asthma. "Have you heard from Alice?"

"Huh? No, I haven't..." She admitted, suddenly feeling guilty about her endlessly delayed trip. "... have you?"

"No." Patchouli's eyes trailed down, and she mumbled, "I'm concerned about her."

"Eh-heh." Seeing such an open display of emotion from the usually-deadpan mage was a bit of a jolt, and Marisa squirmed with secondhand discomfort. This whole mess just seemed like a job for somebody more tactful... but Marisa was the one stuck in the middle of it, so she'd have to suffice. "Ahh, knowing her, she's probably already fixed it, and then wrote half a book of new theories that she's gonna force me to listen to. But if you wanna stop by her place and check on her, I could tag along...?"

Patchouli didn't manage to look up as she said, “I would like that, yes.”

* * *

The flight to Alice's cottage was usually a short and routine one, but with Patchouli along, it took nearly twice as long. The pollen of the forest seemed to be doing very unkind things to the fragile mage's allergies, and the short trip was punctuated by several stops to let her lean against a tree and gasp for air. Night was falling by the time Alice's cottage came into view. From the air, it still looked like the picture of domestic normalcy: a pillar of smoke rose from the chimney, candlelight shined from the windows, and the items that Marisa had left on the front step were missing.

Patchouli's presence was practically the only thing keeping Marisa from wondering again if she'd dreamed the whole thing up. Even so, she felt strange approaching the front door. As casually as she could, she leaned her broom against the frame, then reached up to knock.

She didn't have to wait for long. Within seconds, the door swung open. Behind it was the now-familiar group of dolls that she'd come to think of as Alice's core. Two of them now held doll-sized pads of paper, with similarly tiny pens. Much more strangely: In the center of the group was a dramatically refurbished Shanghai doll. Her blonde hair had been cut into a bob and was held back with a red band, and she was wearing a pair of brown boots and a tiny blue dress, secured with a red sash around the waist.

She was, in fact, a pretty good replica of Alice.

The Alice-doll curtsied. The paper-bearing dolls to either side of her held up messages. "Good evening. I've been expecting you," on one, and "Would you like to come in?" on the other.

Marisa stared, speechless. Even by Gensokyo standards, this was getting pretty weird. Fortunately, Patchouli seemed entirely unfazed, and handled speaking for the pair. "Thank you. I'm sorry to disturb you this late." As she stepped through the doorway, Marisa could only scramble to keep up.

* * *

It was immediately obvious that Alice's cottage had seen some serious renovations. Much of the human-scale furniture had been removed, while the walls were now completely lined in shelving, so fresh that it still smelled of lacquer. Every single shelf was just high enough for a doll to stand on, and they were set up with doll-sized furniture: dozens of tiny desks, doll-sized podiums for human-sized books, and an entire wall of dolls resting in seats, with their eyes thankfully closed. It was still obviously a work in progress, but they now looked less like shelves and more like a series of very small two-dimensional mansions lining the walls.

Marisa had to give it to Alice: Doll labor was _fast_.

The living room, thankfully, still seemed to be set up for humans. Alice's body was conspicuously absent, but Marisa still gave that seat a wide berth. Patchouli settled in across from her, and by the time they were both seated, a crew of dolls had positioned a small chair on the coffee table, forming a triangle with the two magicians. The Alice doll settled into the small seat, flanked by the two writing ones, who had already written the next message: "Would you like some tea?"

Patchouli nodded in response, and even before that, Marisa could swear that she heard the rattle of a kettle in the kitchen. She was suddenly, acutely aware of the small sounds of movement all throughout the cottage, and decided it was nicer if she just kept talking. "The place looks different! Very, uh. Tiny."

"Yes, well. It seems like I don't need human furniture apart from guests anymore, so I'm trying something a bit more convenient for my current form."

Marisa nodded uncomfortably. "And what's with the tiny you?"

The writing dolls flipped their pads around and each wrote in unison, then turned them back around to face the pair. "I thought it would be easier if I gave people something to focus on when we're talking. I hope it helps?"

"Y-yeah, it's kinda cute, I guess!"

"It seems you are adjusting well," Patchouli said, as a crew of dolls hauled a kettle and a pair of cups into the room. They filled one for her, and sat the still-empty one in front of Marisa. Even as they did that, Marisa noted, the pair with the pens were already writing a response, with no apparent detriment to either task. Apparently Alice was getting better at the multitasking thing.

"If I'm going to be stuck like this, I might as well make the best of it."

"Yeah, but it's only temporary, right?" Marisa picked up the empty cup and filled it with a bit of tea for herself, then took a sip. It was kind of wishy-washy. Marisa's tea was steeped in a pot that she cleaned maybe once a year, with sugar added to offset the bitterness until it approached the consistency of syrup. Proper _witch's_ tea. She considered asking for some sugar, but supposed she could do without for now. "I mean, now that we know what happened, we can fix it."

"Well, if Patchouli is right, then I wanted this. I do have to admit that it has its advantages."

"Like what?"

"Like the fact that I'm still making furniture in my workshop while we talk."

"... oh."

"I only intend to try it for a while. If I want to remain human afterward, we can still look for a solution."

"I'm relieved that you've decided to be reasonable about this," Patchouli said. "You should give all of your options full consideration."

Marisa studied Alice, but between her written communication and the nearly-expressionless face of the doll, it was almost impossible to discern any emotion. The memory of Alice angrily typing— _I didn't want this!_ —came to mind unbidden. It had barely been two days since then. Had she really adjusted so quickly? She drained her cup with a loud slurp and dropped it back to the table. "Do what you want, I guess. It's your body."

Marisa spent most of the rest of the conversation in silence. Alice and Patchouli soon fell into discussing arcane minutia, and while she'd usually soak that up like a sponge, she just wasn't in the mood. She was deep in thought... and every now and then, became aware of just how many unmoving dolls sat along the walls of the room. Were all of those Alice, right now? Or were they just waiting there, lifeless, until she needed them? She wasn't sure which answer felt less strange.

After quite some time, Patchouli headed home. Marisa's attention drifted back to the outside world when dolls landed on the table and started cleaning up the cups. She was just in time to realize that the Alice-doll was studying her. "I'm sorry, that was probably a bit boring to listen to, wasn't it?" On the other card: "There's something I've been meaning to talk to you about. Would you like to get some fresh air?"

* * *

Marisa did, she realized only after she'd stepped outside, need the fresh air. The smell of lacquer in the cottage had grown a bit overwhelming, and leaving it behind was a relief. The vast majority of Alice's new body stayed behind, leaving only the Alice doll and the two writers. They hovered forward in a loose formation, just below eye level, and Marisa followed, with no idea what this was about.

The sun had been down for a couple of hours, and the chill was setting in. Despite the full moon, the forest seemed strangely quiet. Perhaps the youkai hadn't quite risen for tonight's mischief yet. Either way, it felt like the only sound for miles was her own footsteps. It made her feel oddly clumsy, conspicuously stomping through the forest as Alice hovered silently a full meter off the ground.

When they were just out of sight of the cottage, the pair passed into a small space between trees. Just enough moonlight filtered down through the leaves for Marisa to see clearly, helped along by a few luminescent mushrooms. Almost reflexively, she mentally cataloged the ones in sight: that one made pretty good stews, the one in the middle was probably poisonous, and that one over _there_ was good in potions and she'd have to remember to come back for it. "Huh. Pretty."

The Alice doll stayed facing away from her, looking out over the clearing, while one of the others wrote a note and flipped it around. "It is, isn't it?" Alice tilted her head back to look up toward the sliver of sky that was visible, and the third doll produced another note. "You don't like this, do you?"

"Huh? ... oh, the doll thing?" Marisa glanced aside and rubbed at the back of her neck. "Well. It's kind of weird, you know? I guess I can get used to it."

"I'm still adjusting, myself." The Alice-doll raised one hand and thoughtfully traced the seams around a ball joint with one fingertip. "But I suppose I should give it a chance. You saw how much work I was able to do around the house in only a few days. If I can learn to perform spells like this..." Both sheets of paper were now full, and the writing dolls had to flip to the next page to continue the sentence. "... who knows what I could accomplish?"

"Heh. Power, huh? Maybe you really are finally becomin' a youkai..."

"It doesn't have to be used selfishly, you know." The Alice-doll turned to face Marisa now. "But that's not why I asked you out here."

Marisa could see that this was going to be a long conversation. She glanced around briefly, then flopped back onto a fallen log. It had been making her neck ache looking down at the dolls, anyway. "Yeah? What's up?"

"This might be a bad time to say this, but... as much as you try to act aloof and self-absorbed, you really are a thoughtful person at heart."

"H-hey, who're you callin' self-absorbed?!"

Alice kept writing regardless, while the central doll walked closer. "Thank you for being so concerned about me."

"Well, you know. If something bad happens to you, I won't have anybody handy to crib spell ideas off of, and—"

The Alice doll stopped walking when it was barely a meter from her foot, looking up with her hands clasped behind her back. "Would you like to go on a date?"

"... eh?" Marisa squinted at the paper, and grabbed it out of the doll's hand to make sure she wasn't misreading it. She could already feel a blush rising to her own cheeks, while a glance at the Alice-doll's face showed it to be as expressionless as ever. That wasn't even _fair_. By the time she'd gathered her thoughts enough to respond, it felt like half a minute had passed. "You mean, like, a _date_ -date."

"Yes."

"Eh-heh." Marisa rubbed at the back of her neck and chuckled. She'd never really _thought_ much about date-dates. The rumors that she'd kissed half the girls in Gensokyo (and a not-insignificant number of guys, depending on which rumors you listened to) weren't entirely inaccurate, but that was different. Perfectly natural to wanna get closer to somebody when you really liked them. Dating somebody, though, meant _complications_. It meant that you couldn't get away with wearing the same clothes for four days straight. You couldn't go off for an impromptu adventure in Makai and forget to tell anybody, or spend half a week working on a new spell and another half sleeping to recover. There were probably sudden restrictions on who you could kiss. You had to follow _rules_.

Marisa and rules had never gotten along that well. There were reasons she didn't live in the village.

And yet, she was smiling.

Before she could respond, though, her thoughts seized up, and she frowned down at Alice thoughtfully. "Wait. With the, uh, doll thing still goin' on...?"

The central doll inclined its head. "I did say this was a bad time. Now feels right, though. If you'd prefer to see if I become human again," Marisa sensed the slightest pause before Alice finished writing, "I'll understand."

"Pff, I've been with a tsukumogami before. After cuddlin' with somebody who's technically a _drum set_ , I don't think a doll would—uh." Marisa stammered to a dead stop, realizing that this might not be the most productive avenue of discussion. "I mean. I wouldn't turn you down just over _that_." Even though on some level, her stomach still felt twisted upside-down at the thought of Alice staying like this forever. She'd deal with that later. "It's just. I don't really know what people do for that kind of thing."

The Alice-doll's expectant gaze softened now, and the other two clutched their pads of paper against their chests for a moment before they could write a response. "I'm glad. You can leave those details to me."

"'kay. When do we, uh...?"

"How does three days from now sound? That should give me time to prepare."

"That'd be good—er, prepare what?"

"Hmm, let's leave it as a surprise." Though Alice's multiple faces remained expressionless as always, the cant of her head struck Marisa as almost... playful? It lasted only a second before she hovered up from the ground, then moved forward to clasp Marisa's hand warmly. With the size difference, she could barely wrap both hands around one of Marisa's fingers, but... it was the thought that counted. Enough to reignite her blush, at least. "Thank you, Marisa."

"Yeah... no problem," Marisa mumbled.

“Good night. I'll see you in a few days.”

Alice's tiny hands slipped from hers with a gentle caress against her finger. As the trio of dolls hovered back toward her cottage, Marisa was left sitting in the clearing, still wondering whether or not she'd meant to say 'yes.'


	4. Chapter 4

Alice, it turned out, had planned _everything_. More like 'plotted,' to Marisa's estimation. Nearly two hours before she'd expected to leave home, Alice had shown up at her door, a lone Hourai doll with a now-familiar pen and paper, and summoned her to her cottage. There, the torture had begun.

First was the bath. Dolls had started tugging at her clothes as soon as she was through the door—and each and every single one was Alice, she had to remind herself—leaving her in only her undershirt and bloomers. Then they herded her into the bathroom, already prepared with a warm bath.

While she was in the bath, even those garments had disappeared. She'd peeked out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around herself, and gotten whisked away by another escort. A quick blow-drying by a dozen dolls with paper fans had ensued...

And now, now she was kneeling on a towel on the bed, while the same dolls dragged multiple combs back through her hair. She did her best to avoid flinching as they worked their way through yet another tangle. "I don't see why any of this is necessary."

"Well, you needed to bathe anyway, right?" The Alice doll was seated primly in front of her, with a writer by her side. "I thought that it would be a chance to dispose some of my scented bath oil. I might not have much need for it anymore."

"Scented...?" Marisa raised one arm and sniffed it, then cringed. "I bet this is what Yuuka's farts smell like."

"Charming."

"Uh-huh." Marisa turned her gaze upward slowly, so as to not shake off the dolls tending to her hair, and took a look around. The transformation of Alice's cottage seemed to be nearing completion. The living room was a small outpost of human-sized accommodations, while most of the rest of the living area had been filled with doll-sized furniture. New shelving units expanded the available space all the way to the ceiling. They were now almost fully furnished, and judging by the activity, Alice was now capable of focusing on five or six disparate groups of dolls while still carrying on a conversation.

She was only distracted from her examination when Alice stopped brushing her hair. "I think that will do it."

"All done, huh?" Marisa reached back and ran her fingers through her hair, and was mildly distressed to find that it felt way too fluffy. It would probably end up a frizzy mess every time she flew anywhere for a week, until it had enough time to form some proper tangles again. Broom riding 101: don't get too attached to your hairdo. "Alright, just let me go get dressed."

"I've already prepared clothes for you."

"I wore a perfectly good outfit here, though."

"Marisa, I've _seen_ your clothes. They have blood on them."

"Most of it's mine, though! Barely even counts!"

"Come on." A few dolls cooperated to grab Marisa's hand and tug her gently, but insistently, to her feet, and the Alice-doll walked ahead of her, leading her back toward the workshop. Marisa could swear that she looked smug... and then the door to the workshop swung open. Compared to the other rooms, it was relatively unchanged, but in the middle of the floor—

"Aw, _jeez_."

—was a mannequin, wearing a dress. A sundress, to be precise. Lime green. With lacy white trim, a bow on the front in dark blue, a splash of multicolored stars up the skirt, and a cute scalloped hemline. The sewing table next to it had stockings laid out, and what Marisa desperately hoped was not, in fact, a ribbon. She hesitantly approached the thing, like it might leap out and wrap itself around her at any moment, and pinched the cloth. It felt entirely too light compared to her normal clothes. “What do you think?” one of the dolls wrote, settling into hovering at a comfortable eye level.

“It's, um.” The way Alice was watching her suggested that she wasn't going to get out of this without giving some opinion. “I like the color,” she finally offered after some thought.

“I'm glad. I'll admit, I've been curious to see how you might look in some nice clothes.”

“Are you sayin' my normal clothes aren't nice?”

“Maybe I am. I need to get ready too, so I'll be moving a few bodies out.” The Alice-doll turned and started off toward the door with a small retinue, but left the writers behind. Turning to watch it, Marisa suddenly realized that she was surrounded by a thin barrier of hovering dolls. “Now, let's get you dressed.”

Marisa could swear that some of the Alice's many bodies were smiling as they closed in around her, blocking off every avenue of escape.

* * *

“... and probably half of Gensokyo saw my panties on the way here,” Marisa continued grumbling as she fussed with the skirt's hemline yet again. “ _Speakin'_ of which, why'd you even have undies in my size laying around?”

“I eyeballed the measurements when you were undressing and sewed them while you bathed. I hope that they fit okay?”

“I guess.”

Across from Marisa, Alice was busy setting up a picnic, with most of the dozen doll bodies she'd brought along toiling away. Only the Alice-doll was left standing with her, holding the paper and pen for itself. One of the small consolations about this whole setup was that Alice had put at least as much effort into her own outfits as the one she'd forced on Marisa. The Alice doll was now fully-bedecked in a midnight blue ball gown, with a flared and ruffled skirt that looked like it would engulf her if she fell over, and even her lesser bodies were wearing matching evening gowns, in a lighter color.

Marisa was beginning to suspect that the Seven-Colored Puppeteer had a thing for playing dress-up.

It was also obvious that Alice had spared no effort in finding the perfect spot for her picnic. The two had flown across half of Gensokyo to get to a grassy plateau far up Youkai Mountain, high enough that Marisa found herself curious exactly how Alice had bribed the tengu for the privilege. Clouds blocked some of the view below her, but beyond them, she found enough landmarks to orient herself. That little clearing with brown squiggles leading from it was the human village, so over there was the Scarlet Devil Mansion, and _that_ was the bamboo forest, which meant the darker green blob was the Forest of Magic, and that little line running up the mountain below was the path to the Moriya Shrine. Almost directly below, a waterfall was kicking up a cloud of mist that fogged the view further down the mountain. She was accustomed to seeing Gensokyo from the air, but she still had to admit that the view was pretty nifty.

Under the focused labor of eleven doll bodies, it didn't take long for the picnic to take shape. Alice had spread out a white cloth, and from the basket she'd brought, quickly unpacked a jug of tea, a single cup, and a bento box, which she'd left closed for the moment. “Are you ready to eat?” She had to hover up to get the small sign far enough into Marisa's field of vision to snap her out of her survey of the land below.

“Huh? Yeah, sure.” Marisa turned to watch as Alice continued preparing the meal, pouring a cup of tea. Two dolls moved forward to lift the lid from the bento box, revealing a small portion of tempura, rice, a piece of salmon, some veggies, and an egg nestled picturesquely in the center. “Uh. Wow.”

“I've only dabbled in Japanese food, but I know that you prefer it.”

“Yeah, no, it looks fine! Just... puttin' that much effort into a meal you can't even eat. You keep that up and people are gonna think you've got a crush on me or something, you know.”

“We're on a _date_ , Marisa. I think they might figure it out.”

“So you admit it, then!” Marisa smirked triumphantly, then plucked up one of the choicer bits of tempura and popped it in her mouth.

“At least wait until I unpack the chopsticks,” Alice wrote, while one of her other bodies dove into the basket to do just that.

“Sorry.” She wasn't.

The doll hurried over to sit the chopsticks in front of Marisa, and she at least had the presence of mind to scoot onto the blanket before she began to eat. She could feel Alice waiting for a verdict. “Pretty good for a beginner!”

“I'm choosing to take that as a compliment.”

“Mmhm.” Marisa started digging through the contents of the box with the ends of the chopsticks and looked out over the scenery below again. “Still, kinda a shame you can't have any.”

“I suppose it is.”

Marisa squinted at the writing, then sighed. “See, that doesn't tell me nothin'. Like, when I hear you saying that in my head, you're rolling your eyes, but for all I know, maybe you're really sad.”

“It can be both, can't it?” Alice wrote, then hesitated before continuing, “It's like I said the other day. I'm resolved to give this a try. I like to think that it's working out so far.”

“I guess. Don't you miss havin' a voice, though? Or being able to eat, or...?”

“I do, yes. But since we don't even know if there's a way to fix this, there's no sense dwelling on it, is there?” The few other dolls lowered their eyes as the Alice-doll kept writing, and Marisa struggled to read the expression. Shame? Annoyance? Regret? “... do you know why I asked you out when I did?”

“I was lookin' extra hot that—“ Already, Alice was writing some more, and Marisa gave up on her answer.

“I've tried before, actually. I practiced in a mirror for hours, and every time I tried to ask you, I couldn't work up the courage. I'd start to stammer, or get too embarrassed.”

“A-ah. Huh. … so what, doing it as a pile of dolls is better?” Marisa asked, as she popped another piece of tempura in her mouth with a loud crunch.

“Sort of, yes. I've never been much of a people person. Doing it through writing, without having to worry about my expression, was easier. But it's not just that.” The Alice-doll handed the pad of paper off to a different body and took a step toward her, while the other doll continued writing. “I never could have brought myself to wear an outfit like this before. I would have been too self-conscious.”

“Uh.” Marisa lowered the chopsticks from her mouth and waggled them in the air thoughtfully, but she couldn't think of a wisecrack suitable for this occasion. Alice had never been so honest with her emotions before. At least, not to Marisa. Deep and reflective conversations about emotions had never quite been Marisa's forte. “So you're less embarrassed like this?”

“I suppose that's one way to put it. More confident.” The Alice-doll took another step forward, its skirt swishing on the blanket. She was left standing in front of Marisa, looking up at her with a pair of skillfully-painted eyes. It took effort for Marisa to pull her eyes away and look up toward the pads of paper. “I don't have to worry about stammering at the wrong time, or blushing. If I start to say the wrong thing, I can erase it before you even see it. My bodies are flawless objects of my own design, instead of the products of nature.” Her eyes were wide now, and with the frantic speed at which she was writing, Marisa got the uneasy feeling that she was... _ecstatic_ at some of this. “There's a lot to be said for it.”

“That... sounds neat, I guess,” Marisa said carefully. She was becoming increasingly aware that all dozen dolls were now looking in her direction. She pictured Alice seeing the scene from twelve different angles and shivered. Like a bug. Marisa carefully set the mostly-finished bento aside to let her focus on the conversation. “So are you saying you're gonna stay like this, or...?”

“I'm considering it. Maybe Patchouli was right. Maybe this is what I want. I've already accomplished so much that I couldn't have before.” Alice stepped forward, closing the gap where the bento had been, and then hovered up close to eye level with Marisa. The two dolls carrying the pads of paper had to hover upward too, to leave themselves in view. “I was able to ask you out, after all.”

“U-uh...” Marisa could feel her cheeks burning, and things were suddenly feeling a little... claustrophobic.

“And I was right. That dress looks nice on you.”

Oh jeez, Alice certainly was getting close to her face. “It's not really my, uh, my normal style, but...”

“This might be a little forward of me, but...” The second doll continued writing after the first had turned its pad around, and Marisa could feel her blush redoubling. There was no way that sentence could end that would make this less awkward. “Would you like to kiss?”

Even this close up, the Alice-doll looked surprisingly lifelike, a tiny replica of Alice apart from the proportions and the fact that her mouth was a delicate line of paint. Marisa could _see_ the small lines left by the individual bristles of the paintbrush if she looked hard enough. Acting on autopilot, she reached up to take Alice's hand...

… and froze.

Marisa could still vividly remember the first time she'd ever touched Alice. It had been only a week after the eternal night incident, one of the first times they'd ever researched together. She'd grabbed it impulsively, trying to embarrass the prim-seeming magician. It had been so _delicate_ , the slim, nimble fingers of somebody who worked with tiny objects for a living. What she'd remembered most, though, was Alice's skin. Where her own hands were eternally calloused and lightly scarred, Alice's skin was... flawless. At the time, it had seemed like the softest, warmest thing she'd ever touched.

Now, Alice's flesh—the doll's flesh—was as smooth as glass, cool to the touch, and utterly, utterly lifeless. Marisa's arm stopped mid-motion, as the bottom fell out of her stomach. Eleven other sets of eyes continued watching her.

Marisa had faced down Yukari Yakumo alone, and she'd spent the entire time cracking jokes. She'd voluntarily fought freakin' _Reimu_ , and could vividly remember laughing through half the fight. And yet.

And yet. And yet and yet and yet. A greasy unease was spiked through her stomach as she tried to see Alice's face in the doll in front of her. She had dozens of memories of the magician blushing, but looking for it on the doll's cheeks, she could only see the grain of the wood. She'd always cherished seeing how far she could push Alice before the magician gave in and laughed at her stupid jokes, and was suddenly, acutely aware that she might never hear Alice laugh again.

The wooden hand suddenly felt very cold in her fingers.

And Alice was still waiting.

Dammit. She was supposed to have a wisecrack at hand to defuse situations like this, but nothing was coming to mind. Plan B was always Tell An Audacious Lie. “Y'know what? Actually. Reimu needs my help, we were supposed to go back down to the Underworld and it's the _cat_ that got nuclear powers this time...” Already, her free hand was patting the ground until her fingers closed around her broom's handle. “You know how she is! Probably dead in ten minutes if I'm not there, haha...!” Marisa's fingers found her broom—wooden, just like Alice's hand—and she hurried to standing.

Alice's many heads tilted to the side. She started to write something, but Marisa didn't stick around to see what it was. “I-I'll, uh, see you later! Maybe bring you back some souvenirs or something!” She stumble-ran toward the edge of the cliff, as casually as she could, then leapt into the autumn air, mounted her broom, and took off at top speed toward home.

Half the trip had passed before she stopped feeling the stares of a dozen dolls on her back.


	5. Chapter 5

Marisa woke up, and immediately regretted it. Her head felt like a window that somebody had chucked a brick through, her mouth was somehow both dry and sticky, and her stomach let out a series of disconcerting gurgles every time she moved.

Just sitting up made her head throb in protest, and she held a hand to it as she looked around the room. Yesterday's events were slowly coming back to her. Last night, she'd flown directly home and, showing her usual abundance of good judgment, gotten _really_ drunk. There were still a few bottles sitting atop the normal detritus covering her floor, and who knew how many more hidden behind the stacks of books. She was tangled up in her clothes, which were also plastered to her with sweat. The thin silk of the green dress—

—Oh. The dress that Alice had made for her. Riiiiiiiight. Crap. Marisa remembered everything now.

She laid back down in bed and pulled the covers back over her head, hoping that things might look better if she slept for another day or two, but the world was having none of it. She really needed a drink, she was acutely aware of every minor ache in her body, and the dress was starting to feel a little itchy. And the damn birds outside wouldn't stop tweeting. And her memory kept flashing back to last night, and the image of a doll leaning forward for a kiss...

Right. Marisa was getting out of bed. Standing up only made the pain in her head worse, but it was a done deal. Breakfast. That's what she needed. Breakfast.

After wrestling with the dress for a minute, she disentangled it from herself and tugged it off over her head. That left her in the unfamiliar snug undies Alice had made, but it was a start. She draped the dress over a pile of books in the corner and stumbled into the main room to find something to eat. For once, her ice box was well-stocked... by her own standards, at least. She'd gone back to the clearing and picked those mushrooms a couple of days ago, and they sat alongside a heaping bowl of late-growing blackberries, a jugged fish that she'd won from Nitori in a game of cards, a bottle of milk, a wedge of cheese, and a sack of fern sprouts.

Eggs sounded good. Marisa dug a pot out from a pile next to her stove, held it up to the light to make sure it was clean, grabbed a convenient shirt off the floor to wipe a little grime from the bottom, and dropped it onto the fire. After a little thought, she cracked three eggs into it, then sprinkled in a handful of the fern fiddleheads and a crumbled mushroom cap. Marisa had never been much for recipes, but that sounded like it'd turn out tasty enough. Edible, at least. This morning, she was willing to settle for edible-ish, even.

As the impromptu omelet-thing cooked, she leaned against the counter, close enough to stir the pot's contents as needed. She tried to think about anything except yesterday's events and failed miserably.

Why was she even so fixated on this? It wasn't like she'd never pissed Alice off before. She should just take the dress back, make up some excuse, and give her a few days to cool off. Good as new, right?

Behind her, the door rattled in its frame, and her thoughts instantly jumped to _It's Alice._ She felt her heart seize up in her chest, but—no, it was just the wind.

But what if Alice _did_ come? She bent over the pot and poked at the contents with the spoon. The door rattled a few more times, and every single one made her freeze for just a second.

This was pointless. Marisa tried to instead turn her thoughts to her plans for the day, but now she was hearing Alice knocking in every tiny creak of the cottage.

Right. Okay. She'd just go look outside. That would be enough to assure her subconscious that Alice wasn't out there, and then she could focus on breakfast. Not caring that she was wearing very little, Marisa picked a path across the clutter of her cottage and opened the door.

It was a brisk Autumn day outside... and the second she stepped through the door, her bare foot settled on cloth. Her outfit—her normal outfit, the one she'd worn to Alice's last night—was sitting on the front step. It had been washed and neatly folded, and her hat was sitting on top. Whenever Alice had dropped it off, she wasn't around anymore, and guiltily, Marisa realized that she was relieved by this. There was no way she was prepared for that conversation right now.

Right. That sealed it. Without a moment of conscious debate, Marisa decided to spend the day comfortably far from the Forest of Magic.

* * *

“You are interrupting my studies.”

“C'mon, Patchy, can't we just _talk_? Reimu doesn't care about magician stuff.”

For the first time in the ten minutes that Marisa had spent slumped over a table in the library, Patchouli looked up from her book. “One might say that your first mistake was referring to a date as 'magician stuff.'”

Marisa scowled and looked away. “You know what I mean. If I tell her about it, she'll just be all, “Hey, if Alice wants to start acting like a youkai, maybe I can exterminate her!””

“That lazy shrine maiden hasn't actually exterminated a youkai in the entire time that—“

“Yeah, but you get the idea! She wouldn't listen about this stuff!”

“You are assuming that I _will_.”

The book crept back up in front of Patchouli's face again, and Marisa reached out to grab it. “... hear me out and I'll bring back all the books I've borrowed, okay?! … well, some of them. ... three?”

Patchouli lowered the book just far enough to give her a calculating stare. “... five.”

“Rrgh, okay, four.”

When Patchouli did not object, Marisa pulled her hand back, and Patchouli reluctantly lowered the book to rest it on the table. “Very well. But I'm only doing this because Alice is my friend as well.”

“... does that mean you'll let me keep the books?”

“ _Never_.”

“Okay, jeez, just askin'. So, uh, anyway...” With a groan, Marisa leaned backward in her seat, until her head was hanging over the back of it. It left her staring up at the library's skylight, with multiple stories of dust-filled air catching the sun. It felt like a good spot to take a nap, and thanks to the hangover, she kinda needed one right now. Didn't look like she was getting the luxury any time soon, though. “... is Alice really stuck like that, or what?”

“At no point did I say that it was necessarily permanent.”

“Huh? Really? … how does she change back, then?”

"As I already said, I believe that she chose that form subconsciously, because she feels that it is a more suitable vessel for her soul. If she truly wanted to be human again, she would be one."

"There's not, like, some spell I can do? 'Abracadabra, zap, you're a human?'"

"Do you think that she would let you?" Marisa drooped in response, and Patchouli continued. "It isn't any of your concern anyway. Why should her form matter to you? You've decided not to date her."

"I didn't say I didn't wanna date her!" Before Marisa knew it, she was upright and leaning over the table. She flushed brightly when she realized the intensity of her outburst. "I-I mean. It isn't... just about me datin' her or not," she said, as she sank back into her seat. "When we talked about it, it was all, 'I don't have to worry about blushing like this' and 'it's easier for me to write instead of talking.' It just seems kinda like it was never about how much she likes being a doll... swarm thing, just about how hard it was for her to be a person."

"... hm, I thought that I just heard Marisa Kirisame showing concern for another person," Patchouli said, as dryly as ever. "I might be hallucinating."

"I'm serious, okay?"

Patchouli sighed, but Marisa swore that she detected the hints of a smile before her face regained its characteristic deadpan expression. "Alice is in a transitional period of her life. It's only natural for her to have some doubts," she said, then cut off Marisa's growing urges to interrupt with a raised hand. "... however. As her friend, I have some concerns, yes. She seems to have changed her mind very quickly. This may be the correct choice for her, but I don't think she's taken her time to give everything due consideration.”

“Yeah, see! That's what I'm—“

“For example, I advised her to not date you.”

“H-hey! I...!” Marisa trailed off with a grumble. “You're not gonna let that drop, are ya?”

“Alice was here this morning. What you did to her was unforgivable.”

Patchouli shifted expressions slowly, subtly, but _implacably_. The slightest changes took her from her usual lack-of-emotion to a glare that could burn a hole through steel, and Marisa winced. “Okay, I get it. I didn't wanna hurt her or anything, it's just... complicated, you know?”

Patchouli didn't relent until it was obvious that Marisa wasn't going to protest further, at which point she relaxed with a huff. “I do think that Alice needs somebody to make her reconsider her current path. I also think that you need to apologize to her.”

“So what do...?” Marisa trailed off, realizing that there was really only one answer here, and it was the one she'd already known and dreaded arriving at. "I guess me and Alice need to have a talk, huh?"

"Yes. I would hope that two people who tamper with the fundamental forces of nature on a regular basis would be able to sort out their own problems," Patchouli said, as she resumed reading.

Marisa hesitated. Already, she could feel nauseous anxiety clawing at the back of her mind, and it suddenly seemed vital to find an excuse to put off leaving. "So, uh, when she was here, did she... say much?"

"About you? Nothing kind, I assure you."

"E-eh-heh. Well." Marisa flinched and did her best to not think about that. She reluctantly rose to standing and rocked on her feet anxiously, searching for some excuse to continue lingering in the library and finding none. Normally, she'd make at least a show of trying to borrow a few books before she left, but today, her heart just wasn't in it. "I... guuuuuuuess I should get goin', huh?"

"Mmh."

"Right. Yeah. Well." Marisa stayed rooted to the spot and looked toward the door, trying to will up the motivation to leave. "I'll... see ya later, then."

"Marisa." Patchouli's voice stopped her before she'd taken a single step. The magician did not look up from her book as she spoke. "There are behaviors that I can and cannot forgive. I am willing to overlook the books that you still have in your possession.” She licked her finger and turned the page. “If you hurt Alice like that again, however, I own one hundred sixty-two books dedicated to curses. Do you understand?"

"Y-yeah. I think I get it." Marisa shuddered. She'd always wondered about the full extent of Patchouli's power, but this didn't seem like the best learning opportunity. “I'll talk to her, okay? Seeya, Patchy.” Rather hurriedly, Marisa made her way out of the Scarlet Devil Mansion.

* * *

Lunch. She needed lunch first, obviously. And actually, while she was heading to the shrine to steal some of Reimu's food anyway, she'd been meaning to swing by the village and grab some necessities. And while she was at it, a stop at Kourindou suddenly seemed like a good idea. And after that, well, she had to take her new purchases home, right?

All in all, Marisa managed to waste four hours, and it was late afternoon by the time she got home. She busied herself for a bit, finding excuses to tidy up the apartment a little, tinker with some of her ongoing experiments, and water the plants... but the excuses were running low. Nothing was distracting her from the lingering knowledge that she was going to have to visit Alice sooner or later.

After stalling for a little longer to tidy her clothes and spending a good twenty minutes looking out the window listlessly, Marisa could no longer find any way to put it off. With a growing sense of dread, she fussed with her hair one last time, grabbed her broom, pushed the door open, and set out for Alice's house.


	6. Chapter 6

Outside Alice's cottage, there were no signs of life. The curtains were drawn, no smoke rose from the chimney, and there were no dolls outside. The door loomed in front of her like a monolith, and Marisa had to approach it as quickly as possible to keep herself from reconsidering. Nothing to worry about, she reminded herself. Just a normal visit to Alice. She'd done this dozens of times. Knock on the door, give a few apologies, and within an hour Alice would be serving her a cup of froofy tea with bits of flowers in it. Practically a normal day in the Forest of Magic.

Except...

Except 'normal' had been in short supply lately. Even Alice's lawn, which she'd previously crossed hundreds of times, felt distant and alien. Alice had apparently used her newfound doll precision to trim the grass perfectly level, and there wasn't a speck of dust on the cottage. Everything was too perfect and too manicured. It felt... well, it felt like a dollhouse, actually. And this wasn't just a routine apology, like that time when she'd accidentally set Alice's table on fire, or the time when she'd spilled tea on an entire shelf of Orleans dolls. This time _mattered_.

Whatever. Worrying and planning had never really been in Marisa's M.O., and she wasn't about to start now. As confidently as she could, she knocked on the door. “Yo! Alice! Hey, do you have a sec? I'd like to—“

The door swung open almost instantly. From within the cottage, she could hear a low, constant clatter, and unlike the exterior, the interior was brightly lit. And yet, no dolls were immediately visible.

Marisa hesitated, but this was gonna be a normal visit, she reminded herself. “H-hey! Are you home?” she called out as she stepped inside. Behind her, the door slid closed, pushed by a pair of Shanghai dolls. It was a sign of life, at least. “Hi. I'm just gonna find the rest of you, okay...?”

It didn't take long. Rounding a corner into the living room, she was instantly confronted with more dolls than she'd ever seen in one place. All of the human-scale furniture had been stripped away. The miniature rooms lining the walls were now fully furnished, and every doll in them was moving, sewing, reading, carving, painting... practically every surface was busy with movement. It filled the cottage with a steady rhythm of labor. In places, Alice was already working to expand the shelves, building outward toward the middle of the room to make more workshop space. Every tiny room had its own candle, filling the cottage with a bright light that left it strangely shadowless.

Perhaps more noteworthy, though, was the fact that dozens of the rooms were dedicated to dollmaking. Several long, horizontal series of them had become miniature assembly lines for different parts—the one at eye level to her left started with small blocks of wood and progressively whittled them down to make torsos, and the one below it seemed dedicated to left legs. At the far end of the room, she could see completed dolls lining up, being clothed in dresses and having the finishing touches put on them.

More worryingly, the tops of the shelves were lined with armed dolls. Dozens of them, standing in an orderly row, with their weapons gleaming in the light. The working dolls seemed to be ignoring her, but every single weapon-bearing one was keeping its eyes fixed on her. Well. That wasn't a good sign. “Hey, um.” She sighed. “I guess we need to talk, huh?”

Over several seconds, the clamor drew to a stop, and every single doll turned to look at her. As inexpressive as their faces were, Marisa still had a hard time reading them as anything but judgmental. It took every ounce of her will to not wilt under the hundreds of glares. “Yeah, I know, I kinda messed up. I just wanna talk.”

Several seconds passed in almost total silence. Marisa squirmed. Finally, from some unseen nook at the other end of the room, the Alice-doll stepped out. She was once again wearing her normal clothes, flanked by the pair of dolls with the small pads of paper, and somehow managing to _walk_ angrily. One of the pads flipped around before she'd even drawn to a stop. "What makes you think that I want to hear anything you have to say?"

"'cuz I wanna say I'm sorry. Okay? I wasn't really thinking. It just kinda... happened."

Hundreds of dolls studied Marisa's expression from every corner of the room, and Alice conceded, "It's a start, I suppose. I still don't want to talk to you."

"N-no no no! No! Uh, I mean! I mean, jeez, I'm _really_ sorry and... and, look. You probably don't wanna see me ever again right now, and I probably even have that comin', but can you just... gimme a chance? Ten minutes. Give me ten minutes, and then you can chase me off and lock the door and we never need to talk again, okay?" Crap, she was pleading. This wasn't what she'd planned for. She wasn't even sure where the ten minutes thing had come from. Maybe making this all up as she went had some downsides.

Alice hesitated before writing, "You have ten minutes."

"Okay. Uh." No killer strategy was coming to mind, and being surrounded by dolls wasn't helping her. "... is there somewhere we can talk with at least some chairs or something?"

Withering stares met her from every direction, but Alice wordlessly turned and led her deeper into the cottage.

* * *

The one room that still had normal furniture, it turned out, was Alice's bedroom. Compared to the other rooms in the cottage, it was untouched. It still held a few normal bookcases in the corners, an armchair, a nightstand on which sat a vase full of wilting flowers, a desk, the bed... and Alice's body. It had been posed quite deliberately, with the eyes closed and her hands folded in front of her, to look like she was sleeping. Marisa paused in the doorway when she noticed it, then uneasily moved over the sit in the chair. She couldn't imagine that Alice had chosen this setting accidentally. "Huh. Is it... still alive?"

"It is, yes. You have eight minutes left."

Marisa rubbed her forehead. This wasn't how this was supposed to go. "I already said I'm sorry, but... really. I shouldn't have done that. I guess it just kinda freaked me out. Thinkin' about you being like that, I mean."

The three dolls that had followed her settled down at the foot of the bed. "Saying that I 'freak you out' isn't going to win you any points."

"Yeah, I know, but..."

"If you're just going to try talking me out of this, you can leave right now."

“Me and Patchy are worried about you.”

“You can stop worrying. I'm fine.”

Marisa sighed and looked past the dolls to Alice's body. In its deep, soulless slumber, she couldn't even tell that it was breathing. “And you're really happier like that?”

“I don't see why you should start being concerned about my happiness _now_.”

“I mean it, though!”

“I don't want to hear it, Marisa. Patchouli can feel whatever she wants, but you already showed your true colors. You're not concerned for me, you're disgusted by me. You said it yourself the first day you came here. I'm _creepy_.”

Marisa flinched. Apology not accepted, apparently. “... so you're gonna stay like this? Forever?” she mumbled, unable to meet the three dolls gazing at her.

For almost the first time since they'd entered the room, Alice hesitated for a few seconds before replying. “I don't see why I shouldn't.” She continued writing, and the pad tipped down just far enough for Marisa to read an upside-down _'I stand by what I said on our d—'_ before Alice scribbled out a few words. “I stand by what I said before. It's easier for me to deal with people like this. I don't blush, I don't stutter, and I don't have expressions to betray my emotions. I'm getting so much more work done like this.”

“Yeah, but—“

Marisa was cut off, as one of the dolls turned around a hastily scrawled, “I'm not finished!”

Her lips clamped shut, and Marisa waited as the two dolls with paper continued writing. Judging by the frantic pace they were moving at, Alice was furious... and yet, the Alice-doll was as unreadable as ever. It was disturbing. She almost wanted to point this out, but it didn't seem like it would exactly go over well. “I refuse to give all of that up just because it makes you uncomfortable. If you weren't even willing to be honest with me, I was wrong about you anyway,” the first paper said. Mere seconds later, Alice turned the second around. “I should have listened to Patchouli. Your ten minutes are up. Get out of my house.”

A bit too late, Marisa realized that a handful of Hourai dolls armed with lances were now hovering in the doorway. They hurried into the room in formation, leveled their weapons at her, and rushed forward to drive her out of the chair. “A-ah! Whoa, hey, Alice, uh!” She stumbled backward, and almost tripped when she passed over the door frame. Her mind raced, and she could feel tears rising to her eyes. It only seemed to goad Alice onward, and one of the dolls gave its lance a subtle jab to keep her moving. “O-okay, yeah, this kinda freaks me out, I admit! But that's not the whole reason!.”

Another jab from the dolls, and Marisa hurried backward through the living room, with Alice's hundreds of other bodies playing spectator. “I get what you're saying! I know it's... it's hard talkin' to people, and you've always been kinda bad at it, but!” Crap, that probably didn't help. “But there's good stuff too! Don't ya miss... singing, and food, and takin' naps, and all of that? I wanna... I wanna do those things with you. And I think you're frickin' cute when you blush, and the way you stammer, and...”

Marisa was crying steadily now, and wiped her nose with the back of a sleeve. Alice, at least, had stopped jabbing weaponry in her direction. The lance-wielding dolls stayed in place, while the Alice-doll walked forward to look up at her. To its side, one of the other dolls wrote a message and held it up, but her vision was too blurry to quite read it. Her thoughts were coming in an avalanche now, anyway. “A-and if you stay like this, I'll never see that stuff again! I _miss_ hearing you talk instead of writing stuff, and seeing you smile, okay?! Last night I realized that I'm already starting to forget what your voice sounds like, and that's pretty screwed up.” She trailed off with a loud sniffle and wiped the tears out of her eyes. “I guess that s-still sounds kinda selfish, doesn't it? Heh.”

Alice—all of Alice—was staring at her incredulously now, and it took a moment before she managed to write, “A little. It's a much nicer way of putting it than running away because you're disgusted by me, though,” she conceded.

“Guess I'm pretty bad at saying stuff sometimes too, huh?” Marisa gave a tired chuckle with a hiccup at the end, then took a deep breath to steady herself a little. “I guess... stay like this if you're happier now, okay? I just miss a lot of the stuff that made you feel like _you_.” Her eyes drifted down toward the floor, and her voice dropped to a near-mumble as she said, “Pretty messed-up that it took me until now to realize I'm in love with ya, isn't it?”

Her tears rushed back now, but Alice no longer seemed to be in a hurry to kick her out. She still only managed one more unsteady step toward the door to the cottage before she fell sprawled to the ground, sniffling. Around her, the scattered army of dolls that was Alice Margatroid watched, seeming frozen in place.

Seconds later, the near-silence was broken when a doll slumped over. Another fell from the shelf where it was standing and clattered against the ground. Soon enough, the room was filled with a constant clamor of falling dolls, tumbling from every surface and smashing into the floor in piles. Later on, Marisa would swear that she'd somehow seen a smile on the Alice-doll's painted mouth before it collapsed on top of its helpers.

The last of the lifeless dolls drifted to a stop, and Marisa looked around, wide-eyed and stunned. The cottage was almost totally silent now, quiet enough that she could hear the tick of a clock from some other room. She reached out to cautiously prod an unmoving Holland doll, with no response.

She was just starting to rise to her feet when she heard the squeak of bedsprings from within the bedroom.


	7. Epilogue

Getting the dress cleaned had been an ordeal in itself. Most of Marisa's clothes were fine with a rough rinse in a handy body of water, but the dress seemed different. There was _no_ way she was going to risk ruining it. She'd ended up spending ninety minutes in the Scarlet Devil Mansion, pleading with Sakuya to show her the right way to wash it. After several major concessions, Sakuya had finally agreed, and Marisa had learned entirely more than she'd ever hoped to know about hand-washing clothing.

The effort had paid off, though. The dress had looked perfect when she got it home. She'd even pulled the stockings on and taken what felt like an eternity to get them smooth against her legs, then spent a good half-hour in front of the mirror, grudgingly brushing the tangles out of her hair.

When it was all done, she looked, well... presentable. She'd still felt practically naked, stepping out of her cottage without her broomstick or the mini-hakkero, walking across an overgrown path through the Forest of Magic like she'd never read a grimoire in her life.

And now, here she was, standing in front of Alice's cottage. It had only been a few days, but she felt like it already looked a thousand times nicer than the last time she'd visited. The lawn had already managed to grow out just a little, the curtains were open, and a cheerful plume of smoke rose from the chimney. Even so, she still felt a cold little knot of worry in her stomach. “Hey, Alice!” she called as she knocked, rather more gently than last time. “Are ya ready, or what?”

There was no response. Marisa shifted her weight from foot to foot and knocked again; nothing.

“Aaaaaalice?”

Her hand tried the doorknob, the door swung open in front of her, and Marisa uncertainly stepped inside.

Alice's cottage looked like a disaster zone. The corners were piled high with orderly stacks of wood, and several boxes heaped full of doll-sized tools sat in the middle of the floor. Turning the corner into the living room only made it worse—all of the miniature workshops that Alice had constructed had been ripped out, leaving the walls bare and pocked with nail holes. They'd been replaced with three temporary-looking shelves of rough lumber, which extended all the way across a single wall, and had dozens of dolls seated on them in cramped ranks. She was only somewhat relieved to see that none of them were moving. Half-disassembled shelves still leaned against the walls, while the center of the room was completely empty. It gave the whole place an abandoned feeling, and certainly didn't help her apprehension as she moved forward.

The first sign of life she heard was a low rustling from the workshop. Marisa crept closer, pushed the door in just a little...

… and caught a glimpse of Alice's naked back. Blushing furiously, she stepped backward and turned away from the door. “Uh, hey! I'm here!”

“Hmm? You're a little early,” Alice said. Fortunately, she seemed oblivious to the peek Marisa had gotten. “I'm almost ready. I hope you won't need to be shown how to brush your hair this time.”

“I think I figured it out, yeah,” Marisa said, while self-consciously nudging a few strands into place with her fingers. From within the room, she could hear cloth rubbing against skin, and very hurriedly started talking again to stop herself from trying to imagine exactly which article of clothing Alice was pulling on right now. “So! Are you gettin' used to being a squishy human again?”

“Well, I wouldn't say that I'm _squishy_ , but yes, it's been a smooth transition. I was only like that for a week and a half, after all.”

“Yeah, I guess. … hehe, just wait until I tell people that you turned human again just because I thought you were cuter like that, though. Totally ruin your whole ice queen reputation, I bet.”

“That wasn't the only reason, And I'm not a...!” Marisa could hear Alice take a step toward the door before pausing. “... who calls me an ice queen?!”

“Aya. And Nitori, and Sakuya, and pretty sure I heard Youmu say it once.”

“You're making all of this up, aren't you?”

“... yeah, but only because I thought it'd be funny if you tried to beat them all up.”

Inside the room, Alice gave an exasperated sigh. In Marisa's opinion, it was a wonderful sound. The rustling of cloth resumed as Alice continued her preparations, and Marisa didn't even realize that the sound was getting closer until she heard the door swing open behind her. She turned around, and—

And Alice was wearing a midnight blue ball gown, which looked like it filled half of the workshop behind her. The skirt was hung with an elaborate pattern of darker lace, and a white ribbon cinched it in around her waist. A pair of matching opera gloves led up to her bare shoulders... bare all the way across, even, with a neckline that teased at just the slightest hint of cleavage.

Marisa didn't even realize she was staring until Alice's voice broke through to her. “Marisa? I said, how does it look?”

“Eh-heh. The big version looks way nicer than the little one did.”

“W-well. Um. Thank you.” Alice self-consciously smoothed the skirt out as she inspected it. “I normally wouldn't wear something quite so ostentatious, but it felt nice before, so...”

“Hehe. You're blushing so hard it looks like your cheeks are gonna pop.”

“Y-you don't have to point it out!”

Alice's blush only intensified... and that was _before_ Marisa pushed her back against the doorframe and kissed a burning cheek. “Calm down. I already told ya it's cute.”

“Yes, I remember,” Alice said. Her blush only slowly faded as Marisa pulled back from the kiss, and the two lingered in the doorway until Alice cleared her throat and hurried to change the subject. “I wasn't about to ask the tengu to let us on the mountain again, so I made us reservations at a restaurant in the village. We'll probably look out of place, but... I'm sure that you're used to that by now.”

“ _I_ look mostly normal. You're the one who's wearin' a dress that makes your butt look the size of the moon. … uh, in a cute way! I guess.”

Alice sighed, but a slight smile still tugged at her lips. “Yes, well. If you're done insulting my butt, we _do_ have a date to attend to.” She offered one gloved hand over. “Shall we?”


End file.
